Bad Behaviour
by Lokifan
Summary: Harry's feeling nostalgic, and makes a Hogwarts breakfast. Eventually Draco is persuaded to play that they're schoolboys too. This was written for the prompts 'windchime', 'snowglobe' and 'porridge oats', with a 1.5k wordlimit.


Draco lay in the back garden, playing with his snowglobe. The garden was small and scrubby, and it gave him hay fever in the summer and was chilly, now, in spring. Usually Harry was the one who liked to spend time here; Draco would follow him out, give a disdainful sniff, and Apparate to Malfoy Manor. The gardens there were glorious all year round; Draco had a particular fondness for the flowering cacti. So pretty, yet so pointy. "Like you," Harry had said when he'd seen them, and touched the point of Draco's chin.

The windchime Harry had put up – dangling silver Snitches – in the doorway chimed one, two, three, in the wind blowing through the garden. Draco's hair was blowing about in the wind and he probably looked like a blond dandelion, but he stretched determinedly on the grass and refused to move.

He could hear Harry swearing in the kitchen. The swearwords had degenerated from "Merlin" to distinctly Muggle vulgarities Harry must have learnt from his repulsive relatives; he had to be really pissed off. Draco caught the sound of heavy footsteps stamping towards the back door; he laid back calmly and shook his snowglobe again, watching the flakes fly around the perfect, tiny representation of Malfoy Manor.

Harry's ever-ruffled black head appeared around the back door. "Are you going to help?" he demanded.

Draco smiled, serene as a Buddha. A Buddha who was slowly torturing his boyfriend into madness, but a Buddha nonetheless. "Why should I? You're the one who decided to make us a Hogwarts breakfast from scratch – and without house-elves, too, just because you're scared of Granger."

"So are you," Harry retorted.

"True, but this is because I take a sensible approach to forces that could chew me up and spit me out. You run _towards_ danger."

"I do not!"

He said this, but he kept arguing with a Malfoy. It made no sense. "The point is, you were the one to get soggy with nostalgia. You cook, and I will make appreciative noises."

"Draco," Harry said. His face was beginning to flush with annoyance: Draco looked at it complacently and thought about the way that flush crested the top of his cheekbones when Draco fucked him. That was delicious. "Draco!"

"What?" Draco said it crossly, pouting. He looked up under his eyelashes at Harry, in order to look appealing and to check if his pout was working.

"I can tell when you're not listening to me," Harry said severely. "Look, this is really hard! I spilt the oats for the porridge all down me!" He finally came into the garden properly, and Draco choked back a giggle. Porridge oats were smeared all down Harry's jeans, and there was pumpkin juice on his t-shirt.

But if he laughed, he might not get to the part where they had 'schoolboy' sex after their Hogwarts breakfast, raging at each other and yanking on each other's ties. Draco was hoping Harry would let him tie him up with Slytherin ties.

On the other hand, it'd be hot if Harry tied _him_ up, furious and wanting to put Draco in his place...

So he picked a dandelion from the lawn, stood, and swaggered over to Harry. Harry was still standing in one of his interrogation poses, arms crossed and legs planted firmly, watching Draco through narrowed green eyes. "Okay, Harry," he cooed, and put his arms round his boyfriend. "No problem."

Harry still looked suspicious, that little line between his brows deepening. But then he melted and smiled back. "You're the best."

"I know," Draco said. Then he lifted the dandelion between their faces, and blew.

He escaped while Harry was still spluttering.

* * *

Half an hour later, they sat down to breakfast. Harry still had dandelion seeds in his hair, but Draco chose not to draw attention to this. He'd been forgiven after he made the toast, because Harry was indulgent whenever Draco made his bad attempts at cooking, but no need to draw too much attention to it.

Harry was playfully glaring at him and Draco was trying to make him smile by playing footsie under the table when the fireplace flared. Bloody Justin Flinches Fetchingly, the most pathetic Hufflepuff Hogwarts ever produced and Harry's Auror partner, had his head in the Floo.

"Hi guys. Sorry to interrupt, Harry, but we need you for a couple of hours – the Mulciber case just got nasty."

"Bugger," Harry said, already standing. "Okay, I'll be right there." Justin didn't seem to get the hint; Harry leant in to kiss Draco goodbye, and the idiot was still watching. Probably imaging himself in Draco's place.

Draco sucked Harry's lower lip, deliberately showy. Harry started to pull away, but Draco held him, breathing the scent of his aftershave and speaking against his mouth. "Come home quickly, all right? When you get back, I want to pretend it's sixth year."

Harry chuckled a little, the huff of air passing warmly over Draco's lips. "We're going to pretend you're being blackmailed by a psychopath?"

Draco sighed. "Hatesex, Harry."

"Ohhh... gotcha." Harry winked, then turned away and Flooed after Justin.

Bastard.

* * *

Harry didn't get back until after dark. Draco busied himself with a few difficult tasks – went out once, and did what was necessary – but he was still peeved.

That made it easy for him to glare when Harry came up to their room, looking tired. "Sorry, I had to do all the paperwork because Justin wandered off after the arrest – "

"What are you doing in my room, Potter?" Draco snapped.

Harry's head jerked round. He took in the Hogwarts uniform, and smiled, slow as a stalking predator. "I'm here to find out what you've been up to, Malfoy."

"Ha! You think I'll tell – " Draco yelped as Harry lunged, bringing them both down onto the bed. He struggled, not wanting to make this easy: Harry wasn't going to have this all his own way. He smacked the side of Harry's head, half knocking off his glasses; Harry grabbed his wrist and bore the hand to the mattress. "No – " They rolled around, Draco feeling more and more overheated: he hadn't lost, but he couldn't get Harry off him. "Fuck off Potter – " Harry laughed, not even out of breath.

Then Draco remembered that Harry had had Auror training. He was _letting_ this carry on, indulging him! Infuriated, Draco lifted a leg to knee Harry viciously in the side. He drew a pained gasp. But then Harry grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, and muscled his way between Draco's legs: parting them had been a bad idea.

"Surrender?" There was a smirk in Harry's voice; he lowered his face to Draco's neck, pulled taut and vulnerable by Harry's grip on his hair, and kissed it. Draco moaned helplessly, but –

"Never!" he yowled. His hands were freed. He grabbed for Harry, scratching him, then realised his hands were free because Harry had grabbed his wand. Harry pointed it at him.

"_Incarcerous._"

"Bugger!"

"Exactly," Harry agreed, as Draco's hands were bound behind his back. "So, Malfoy, going to give it up?"

"Fuck off." Draco felt sulky. "You haven't won yet."

"No?" Harry waved his wand again, and stripped him. Draco gave a shuddering gasp as the cool of the room touched his skin, and instinctively clenched his thighs, feeling exposed. Harry, still lying heavily between them, grinned. "In that case, I'll have to _make_ you surrender."

Draco stared up into his face, feeling very uncomfortable with his hands tied, and very vulnerable. "Now, Potter, remember you're sixteen and still rather innocent..."

"No, not really." Harry's hand left his hair, and the next moment Draco gasped in outrage. Two rude hands were harshly spreading his thighs; one lifted his balls, sending delicious shivers through him. Then – "oh!" Fingertips were rubbing at his hole, spreading oil there. "Potter – "

"Shush." Harry kissed him; Draco opened for him automatically, forgetting the game as Harry's tongue stroked slickly over his. Then he felt Harry's hand move away, heard him undoing his belt and zipper. "Potter – "

Harry pressed inside, stretching him uncomfortably. His breath came in stuttering gasps at the feeling. "Wait, stop – "

"No, I don't think so." Harry grinned predatorily; in the light through the Venetian blinds, his hair was brindled black and grey, like a wolf. "I want you."

He moved slowly at first, but not out of mercy: he was watching Draco's face as it clenched in pain. Draco bit his lip, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"You like this..."

"No – "

Draco arched as a hand reached down to wank him. "Oh – I – "

The hand left again; Harry smiled teasingly and kissed his neck again, sucking enough to leave a bruise. "Are you sure?"

"Fine, I like it!" Draco snapped. "Just _fuck me_."

Oh bliss, the hand came back, and Harry was fucking faster now, so hard it almost hurt, twisting Draco's nipple to watch him shudder. They came together: this was so much better than anything _Justin_ could provide.

Draco got up. "Sorry, Harry, I just remembered – I left the snow globe in the garden." He went outside still naked, much too pleased with himself to care what the neighbours thought, and picked it up where he'd left it a few hours ago. He shook the snowglobe, and watched snow fall on the tiny, perfect Malfoy Manor, then lifted it to his ear.

If he tried, he could hear the shrunken Justin screaming in the tiny, perfect Malfoy dungeons.


End file.
